Elyse Schein had always known she was adopted, but it wasn’t until her mid-thirties while living in Paris that she searched for her biological mother. When Elyse contacted her adoption agency, she was not prepared for the shocking, life-changing news she received: She had an identical twin sister. Elyse was then hit with another…

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]]>http://kindlenationdaily.com/2015/03/dont-be-a-stranger-when-there-are-deals-like-this-79-flash-price-cut-from-random-house-identical-strangers-a-memoir-of-twins-separated-and-reunited/feed/0FREE TODAY! If you were a fan of the TV Series HIGHLANDER, you will love… Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 by Maggie Shaynehttp://kindlenationdaily.com/2015/03/free-today-if-you-were-a-fan-of-the-tv-series-highlander-you-will-love-eternity-immortal-witches-book-1-by-maggie-shayne/
http://kindlenationdaily.com/2015/03/free-today-if-you-were-a-fan-of-the-tv-series-highlander-you-will-love-eternity-immortal-witches-book-1-by-maggie-shayne/#commentsTue, 03 Mar 2015 16:09:27 +0000http://kindlenationdaily.com/?p=134538Last week we announced that Maggie Shayne’sEternity: Immortal Witches Book 1 is our Romance of the Week and the sponsor of thousands of great bargains in the Romance category: over 200 free titles, over 600 quality 99-centers, and thousands more that you can read for free through the Kindle Lending Library if you have Amazon Prime!

Now we’re back to offer our weekly free Romance excerpt, and if you aren’t among those who have downloaded Eternity: Immortal Witches Book 1, you’re in for a real treat:

“A rich, sensual, bewitching adventure of good vs. evil with love as the prize.” ~Publisher’s Weekly

WINNER: RT Book Reviews: Reviewers Choice Award
WINNER: Reviewer’s Listserv: Best Paranormal Romance Award
WINNER: New Jersey Romance Writers: Golden Leaf Award
One of BN.com’s “Top 12 Reads of the Year”300 years ago, Raven St. James was hanged for witchcraft. But she revives among the dead to find herself alive. She is an Immortal High Witch, one of the light. A note from her mother warns that there are others, those of the Dark, who preserve their own lives by taking the hearts of those like her.Duncan Wallace’s forbidden love for the secretive lass costs him his life.300 years later, he loves her again, tormented by hazy memories of a past that can’t be real. She tells him of another lifetime, claims to be immortal. Though he knows she’s deluded, he can’t stay away. And the Dark Witch after her heart is far closer than either of them know.

* * *

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And here, for your reading pleasure, is our free romance excerpt:

Chapter 1

I always knew I was a witch.

The definition of the word has since broadened somewhat, and rightly so, I imagine. Today anyone with the determination to learn and practice the Craft of the Wise can call herself—and deservedly—a witch. But in my time there were no books written to guide a seeker, save the books of the witches themselves, but the grimoires were kept secret. Back then one was only a witch if one was born to, or adopted by, another witch. And even then the young one wasn’t told all of the secrets. Some of them I didn’t learn until much later.

My mother was a wise woman, a witch, and from the time I was very young I was taught the ways of drawing on the power of the sun and the moon and the stars and of nature itself. Above all else, I was taught the importance of keeping all that I learned secret. For the penalty meted out to practitioners of the Craft in those days was harsh. Mother never told me just how harsh. I learned that when I was twenty and one, in a lesson so cruel its memory remains burned in my mind, though three full centuries have passed. And yet it was because of that cruelty that I first set eyes upon Duncan Wallace.

The key to my mother’s ruin was her kindness. My father had died only a fortnight before, of a plague her simple folk magic could not fight. Many lives were lost in our small English village that brutal winter of 1689, and perhaps my mother simply could not bear to see one more death after so much grief.

At any rate, it was Matilda, the sister of my dead father, who came pounding on our door that dark wintry night. Looking startled at Aunt Matilda’s state—wild hair and wilder eyes and not so much as a cloak about her shoulders—Mother drew her inside and bade her take the rocking chair beside the hearth to warm herself. I offered tea to calm her. But Aunt Matilda seemed crazed and refused to sit down. Instead, she paced in agitated strides, her skirts swishing about her legs, her thin slippers leaving damp footprints on our wood floor.

“No time to sit an’ sip tea,” she told us. “Not now. ‘Tis my youngest, my little Johnny, named for my own dear brother who has gone to his reward. My Johnny has taken ill!” She whirled and grabbed my mother, gripping the front of her dress in white-knuckled fists. “I know you can help him. I know, I tell you! An’ if you refuse me now, Lily St. James, I vow–”

“Matilda, calm yourself!” My mother’s firm voice quieted the woman, though only for a moment, I feared. “I would never refuse to help Johnny in any way I can. You know that.”

My mother’s head lowered, and I saw the pain flare anew in her eyes—a pain that sometimes dulled but never died away.

“I tried everything I knew to help Jonathon. But I couldn’t save him,” she whispered.

“Perhaps because you brought the illness on him from the start.”

“Aunt Matilda!” I stepped between the two, forgetting to respect my elders and tugging my aunt’s arm until she faced me, rather than my mother. “You know better. My parents shared a love such as few people ever know, and I’ll not stand by and hear you sully its memory.”

“Raven, don’t,” Mother began.

But I rushed on. “No one can bring on such a plague as this, and well you know it!”

“No one but a witch, you mean, don’t you, Raven? Raven. She even named you for some dark carrion bird. Are you practicing the black arts as well, girl?” Aunt Matilda gripped my shoulders, shook me. “Are you? Are you?”

I could only blink in shock and stagger backward, pulling free of her chilled hands. My aunt knew. But how? How could she know the secret that had been only between my mother and me? Even my father had been unaware….

“What makes you say such a thing?” my mother asked gently. “How can you accuse your own sister?”

“Sister-in-law and not by blood,” Matilda reminded my mother. “And I know. I’ve always been suspicious of you and your Pagan ways, Lily. From the time you helped me birth my firstborn and somehow took away the pain. And later, when you nursed me through the influenza that should have killed me. You with your herbs and brews.” She waved a hand at the drying herbs that hung upside down in bunches from our walls, and at the jars filled with philters and powders, lining the roughly hewn wooden shelves. “No physician could ease my suffering the way you did.” She said it unkindly, made it an accusation.

Slowly my mother nodded, her serene expression never changing. “Herbs and plants are given by God, Matilda. Knowing how to use His gifts can surely be no sin.”

“I saw you last full moon.”

The words lay there, dropped like blows, as we stared at one another, my mother and I, both remembering our ritual beneath the full moon, when we chanted sacred words ‘round a balefire at midnight.

“I know you have…powers. And I don’t care if they’re sinful or not. Not now. I need you to help Johnny. If you didn’t conjure this plague, then prove it. Cure him, Lily. If you refuse….” Her eyes narrowed, but she didn’t finish.

“If I refuse, you’ll do what, dear sister? Bear witness against me to the magistrate? See me tried for witchery?”

Matilda didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. I saw her answer in her eyes, and my mother saw it as well.

“You’ve no need of such threats,” Mother told her. “All you had to do was ask for my help. I’ll try my best for your son, just as I did for Jonathon. But witchery or no, I may not be strong enough to help him.”

“If he dies, I vow, I’ll see you hang!” Aunt Matilda lurched toward the plank door, tugging it open on its rawhide hinges. “Gather what you need and come at once. I must make haste back to his bedside.”

She left us in a swirl of snow, not bothering to close the door. I went and shut out the weather, then stood for a long moment, my hand on the door. I had a terrible premonition that the events of the past few moments would somehow change our lives forever. I didn’t know how, or why, but I felt it to my bones. Drawing a deep breath, I turned to face my mother. I knelt before her, taking her hands in mine, staring up into eyes as black as my own. “Don’t go to him,” I begged her. “You cannot help him any more than you could help Father. And when he passes, she’ll blame you.”

“He is my own nephew,” she whispered. She tugged her hands away, got to her feet, and began to make ready, taking sprigs of herbs from the dried bunches hanging on the wall, pouring a bit of this powder and a bit of that into her special cauldron. The one with the hand-painted red rose adorning its squat belly. She added steamy water from the larger cast-iron pot that hung in the fireplace to the brew.

“We should leave this village,” I pleaded as I worked at her side, measuring, stirring, holding my hands above each concoction to push magical energy and healing light into it. “We should leave tonight, Mother. Our secret is known, and you’ve told me how dangerous that can be.”

“I can’t break my vows,” she said. “You know that. When someone needs help, asks me for help, I am bound by oath and by blood to try. And try I will.” She looked into my eyes. “You should pack a bag and go to London. Take the horse. Leave tonight. I’ll send for you when—”

“I won’t leave you to face this alone,” I whispered, and I flung myself into her arms, stroking her raven hair, so like my own, though hers was knotted up in back while mine hung loose to my waist. “Don’t ask me to, Mother.”

Her mouth curved in the first smile I’d seen cross her lips since my father’s death. “So strong,” she said softly. “And always, so very stubborn. All right, then. Come, let us hasten to Johnny.”

We quickly packed our potions and some crystals and candles into a bag, pulled our worn homespun cloaks over our heads and shoulders, and stepped out into the brutal winter’s night.

But my cousin was dead before we even arrived at my aunt’s house. And we were greeted by a wild-eyed woman who’d once claimed us as kin, and the group of citizens she’d roused from slumber, all bearing torches and shouting, “Arrest them! Arrest the witches!”

Cruel hands gripped my arms, even as I turned to flee. Accusations rang out in the night, and people stood round watching as my mother and I were surrounded, and then dragged over the frozen mud of the rutted streets. I cried out to my neighbors, begging for help, but none was forthcoming. And my heart turned cold with fear. As cold as the wind-driven snow that wet my face.

‘Twas a long walk, the longest walk of my life. The poor shacks of the village fell away behind us as we were pulled and pushed along, and we emerged onto the cobbled streets that ran between the fine homes of the wealthy in the neighboring town. At last we stood before the house of the magistrate himself, trembling in the icy wind while our accusers pounded upon his door.

The man emerged in his nightclothes after a time, looking rumpled and irritated. “What’s all this?” he demanded, white whiskers twitching.

Two witches!” shouted the man who gripped my mother’s arms tightly. The ones who brought this plague on us all, Honor.”

The old man’s eyes widened, then narrowed again as he perused us. Beyond him I could see the glow of a fire in a large hearth, and feel its heat on my face. I longed to go warm my hands by that fire. My fingers were already numb from the cold.

“What evidence have you against them?” the magistrate asked.

The word of this one’s own sister,” said another, pointing at my mother.

“Matilda is not my sister,” my mother said, her voice ever calm, despite the madness around her. I would never forget her face, beautiful and serene. Her eyes, so brave, no hint of fear in them. “She is the sister of my husband.”

“Your husband who died of the plague!” the man cried out. “And now your nephew is taken as well.”

“Many have been lost to the plague, sir. Surely you wouldn’t accuse every bereaved family of witchery?”

The man glared at my mother. “Matilda St. James bears witness, Honor. She’s seen them practicing their dark rites with her own eyes.”

“‘Tis a lie!” I shouted. “My aunt is maddened with grief! She knows not what she says!”

“Silence.” The magistrate’s command sent shivers down my spine. He stepped forward, glancing down at the woven sack my mother still clutched in her hands. “What have you there, woman?”

Mother lifted her chin, meeting his gaze. I could see the thoughts moving behind his eyes, the way he looked at us, judging us, though we were strangers to him.

“‘Tis only some herbs,” she said softly, “brewed in a tea.”

“She lies,” the man said. “Matilda St. James said this woman was bringing a potion to cure her young son. But she feared the witch would deliberately wait until it was too late to help the lad, and her fear proved true. A witch’s brew lies in that sack, Honor. Nothing less, I vow.”

The hands holding my mother’s arms eased their grip, and she gave her sack over. The magistrate opened it, pawing its contents, and I shuddered recalling the stones we’d put inside. Glittering amethyst and deep blue lapis, for healing. And the candles, made by our own hands and carved with magical symbols to aid in Johnny’s recovery. We would have set them around his bed, where they would have burned all night to protect him from the ravages of the plague.

The magistrate saw all of this, and when he looked up again, his eyes had gone cold. So cold I felt even more chilled despite the warmth from the fire at his back. “Put them in the stocks. We try them on the morrow. Perhaps a night in the square will convince them to confess and save us the time.” He withdrew, leaving the door wide, and reappeared a moment later with a large key, which he handed over to one of the men. “See to it.”

His door closed on my pleas, and again I was pulled and dragged as I fought my captors. But my struggles were to no avail. And soon I found myself being forced to bend forward, my wrists and my neck pressed awkwardly into the stock’s evil embrace. The heavy, wooden top piece was lowered as my own neighbors held me fast, and I heard the chain and the lock snapping tight.

I could not move. Could not see my mother, but I knew she was nearby, for I heard her voice, strained now, but steady. “Tell the magistrate he shall have my confession,” she said. “But only if he will let my daughter go free. She knows nothing of this matter. Nothing at all. You must tell him.”

The man to whom she spoke only grunted in reply. And then the villagers left us. In the town square, bent and held fast, we waited in silence for the dawn. The freezing wind cut like a razor, and the wet snow continued to slash at us. I shivered and began to cry, my face stinging with cold, my hands numb with it, my feet throbbing and swelling.

And then I heard my mother’s gentle voice, chanting softly, “Sacred North wind, do us no harm. Ancient South wind, come, keep us warm.” Over and over she repeated the words, and I forced my teeth to stop chattering and joined with her, closing my eyes and calling to the winds for aid. My mother’s folk magic could not make iron chains melt away. But she could invoke the elements to do our bidding.

Within minutes the harsh wind gentled, and the snow stopped falling. A warmer breeze came to replace the bitter cold, and my shivering eased. I was still far from comfortable, bent this way, unable to relieve the ache in my back. But I knew my mother must be suffering far more than I, for her body was older than mine. Yet she did not complain. I took strength from that, and vowed to keep my discomfort to myself.

“Hard times await us, my daughter,” she told me. “But whatever happens tomorrow, Raven, you must remember what I tell you now. Promise me you will.”

“I promise,” I whispered. “But, Mother, you mustn’t confess anything to them. Not even to save me. I couldn’t live if you were to die.” The thought terrified me, and I pulled my hands against the rough wood that held them prisoner, though I could not hope to work them free. She was all I had in this world. All I had.

“Perhaps this is my destiny,” she said softly. “But ‘tis not yours.”

“How can you know that?”

“I know,” she whispered. “I’ve known from the day you were born, child. By the birthmark you bear upon your right hip. The crescent.” Tears burned my eyes. But my mother went on. “You’re a far more powerful witch than I have ever been, Raven.”

“No. ‘Tis not true. I can barely cast a decent circle.”

She laughed then, softly, and the sound of it touched my heart. That she could laugh at a time like this only made me love and respect her more than I already did, though I’d never have thought it possible.

“I speak not of the form of ritual, but the force, Raven. The power is strong in you. And you will need that strength. When this is over, child, you must leave here. Go to the New World. My sister, Eleanor, is there, in a township called Sanctuary, in the colony of Massachusetts. She is not a witch, and knows nothing of our ways. She was born of my father’s faithlessness and raised by her own mother and not in our household. But she is kind. She will not turn you away.”

“Perhaps not,” I said. “But I will not leave you behind.”

“I fear ‘tis I who will leave you behind, my darling. ‘Tis the night of the dark moon, when our powers ebb low. But even were our lady of the moon shining her full light down upon us, I doubt I could save myself. Do not cry for me, Raven. Dying is part of living, a birth into a new life. You know this.”

When Mother spoke again, I could hear tears in her voice as well. “Raven, listen to me. You must listen.”

I tried to quiet myself, to do as she wished, but I vowed she would not die tomorrow. Somehow I would save her.

“When ‘tis over,” she told me, “you must return to our cottage in the village. But do so by night, and be very careful. You mustn’t be seen. Do not wait too long, child, lest they burn the house in their vengeance or award it to Matilda’s family in return for her testimony against us. You must go back in secret. Gather only what you will need for your journey. Then go to the hearth. There is a loose stone there. Take what you find hidden beyond that stone.”

“But, Mother–”

“And take the horse, if she is still there. You may sell her in some other village. But take care. Should you meet anyone, do not tell them your true name. And as soon as you can, book passage on a ship to the New World. Now promise me you will do these things.”

“I’ll not let them kill you, Mother.”

“There is nothing you can do to prevent it, child. I’ll have your promise, though, and I will die in peace because of it. Promise me, Raven.”

Sniffling, I muttered, “I promise.”

“Good.” She sighed, so deeply it seemed as if some great burden had been lifted from her shoulders. “Good,” she whispered once more, and then she rested. Slept, perhaps. I could not be sure. I cried in silence from then on, not wishing to trouble my Mother with my tears. But I think she knew.

When dawn came, it brought with it the magistrate, and beside him a woman, looking distraught with red-rimmed eyes. Behind them walked a man who wore the robes of a priest. He had an aged face, thin and harsh, with a hooked nose that made me think of a hawk, or some other hungering bird of prey. He was pale, as if he were ill, or weak. And then they came closer, and I could see only their feet, for I could not tip my head back enough to see more.

“Lily St. James,” the Magistrate said, “you and your daughter are charged with the crime of witchcraft. Will you confess to your crimes?”

My mother’s voice was weaker now, and I could hear the pain in it. “I will confess only if you release my daughter. She is guilty of nothing.”

“No,” the woman said in a shrill voice. “You must execute them now, Hiram. Both of them!”

“But the law—” he began.

“The law! What care do you have for the law when our own child has become ill overnight? What more proof do you need?”

At her words my heart fell. She blamed us for her child’s illness, just as my aunt had done. No one could save us now.

I heard footsteps then, and sensed the magistrate had gone closer to my mother. Leaning over her, he said, “Lift this curse, woman. Lift it now, I beg of you.”

“I have brought no curse upon you, nor your family, sir,” my mother told him. “Were it in my power to help your child, I would gladly do so. As I would have for my own husband and for my nephew. But I cannot.”

“Execute them!” his wife shouted. “Michael was fine until you arrested these two! They brought this curse on him, made him ill out of pure vengeance, I tell you, and if they live long enough to kill him, they will! Execute them, husband. ‘Tis the only way to save our son!”

The priest stepped forward then, his black robes hanging heavily about his feet and dragging through the wet snow. His steps were slow, as if they cost him a great effort. He went first to my mother, saying nothing, and I could not see what he did. But he came seconds later to me and closed his hand briefly around mine.

A surge of something, a crackling, shocking sensation jolted my hand and sizzled into my forearm, startling me so that I cried out.

“Do not harm my daughter!” my mother shouted.

The priest took his hand away, and the odd sensation vanished with his touch, leaving me shaken and confused. What had it been?

“I fear you are right,” the priest said to the magistrate and his wife. “They must die, or your son surely will. And I fear there is no time for a trial. But God will forgive you that.”

Pacing away, his back to us, the magistrate muttered, “Then I have little choice.” And the three of them left us alone again. But only for a few brief moments.

“Mother,” I whispered. “I’m so afraid.”

“You’ve nothing to fear from them, Raven.”

But I did fear. I’d never felt such fear grip me as I felt then, for within moments the priest had returned, and he brought several others with him. Large, strong men. People filled the streets as my mother and I were taken from the stocks. The people shouted and called us murderers and more. They threw things at us. Refuse and rotten food, even as the men bound our hands behind our backs and tossed us onto a rickety wagon, pulled by a single horse. I crawled close to my mother, where she sat straight and proud in that wagon, and I leaned against her, my head on her shoulder, my arms straining at their bonds, but unable to embrace her.

“Be strong,” she told me. “Be brave, Raven. Don’t let them see you tremble in fear before them.”

“I am trying,” I whispered.

The wagon drew to a stop, and the ride had been all too short. I looked up to see a gallows, one used so often it looked to be a permanent fixture here. I was dragged from the wagon, and my mother behind me. But she didn’t fight as I did. She got to her feet and held her head high, and no one needed to force her up the wood steps to the platform, while I kicked and bit and thrashed against the hands of my captors.

She paused on those steps and looked back at me, caught my eyes, and sent a silent message. Dignity. She mouthed the word. And I stopped fighting. I tried to emulate her courage, her dignity, as I was marched up the steps to stand beside her, beneath a dangling noose. Someone lowered the rough rope around my neck and pulled it tight, and I struggled to be brave and strong, as she’d so often told me I was. But I knew I was trembling visibly, despite the warmth of the morning sun on my back, and I could not stop my tears.

That priest whose touch had so jolted me stood on the platform as well, old and stern-faced, his eyes all but gleaming beneath their film of ill health as he stared at me…as if in anticipation. Beside him stood another man who also wore the robes of clergy. This one was very young, my age, or perhaps a few years my elder. In his eyes there was no eagerness, no joy. Only horror, pure and undisguised. They were brown, his eyes, and they met mine and held them. I stared back at him, and he didn’t look away, but held my gaze, searching my eyes while his own registered surprise, confusion. I felt something indescribable pass between us. Something that had no place here, amid this violence and hatred. It was as if we touched, but did so without touching. A feeling of warmth flowed between him and me, one so real it was almost palpable. And I knew he felt it, too, by the slight widening of his eyes.

Then his gaze broke away as he turned to the older man and said, “Nathanial, surely ‘tis no way to serve the Lord.”

“‘Thou shalt not kill,”’ the young Scot—Duncan—replied. And he looked at me again. They’ve nay been tried.’’

“They were tried in the square by the magistrate himself.”

“It canna be legal.”

“His Honor’s own child is ill with the plague. Would you have us wait for the child to die?”

The young man’s gaze roamed my face, though he spoke to the old one. I felt the touch of those eyes as surely as if he caressed me with his gentle hands, instead of just his gaze.

“I would have us show mercy,” he said softly. “We’ve no proof these women have brought the plague.”

“And no proof they haven’t. Why take the risk? They are only witches.”

The beautiful man looked at the older one sharply. They are human creatures just as we are, Nathanial.” And he shook his head sadly. “What are their names?”

Their names are unfit for a man of the cloth to utter. If you so pity them, Duncan, ease your conscience by praying for their souls. For what good it might do.”

“‘Tis wrong,” Duncan declared urgently. “I’m sorry, Father, but I canna be party to this.”

“Then leave, Duncan Wallace!” The priest thrust out a gnarled finger, pointing to the steps.

Duncan hurried toward them, but he paused as he passed close to me. Then turned to face me, as if drawn by some unseen force. His hand rose, hesitated, then touched my hair, smoothing it away from my forehead. His thumb rubbed softly o’er my cheek, absorbing the moisture there. “Could I help you, mistress, believe me I would.”

“Should you try they would only kill you, as well.” My voice trembled as I spoke. “I beg you…Duncan….” His eyes shot to mine when I spoke his name, and I think he caught his breath. “Do not surrender your life in vain.”

He looked at me so intently it was as if he searched my very soul, and I thought I glimpsed a shimmer of tears in his eyes.

“If there be memory in death, Duncan Wallace,” I said, speaking plainly, even boldly, for what had I to lose now? “I shall remember you always.”

He drew his fingertips across my cheek, and suddenly leaned close and pressed his lips to my forehead. Then he moved on, his black robes rustling as he hurried down the steps.

“Do you wish to confess your sins and beg the Lord’s forgiveness?” the old priest asked my mother.

I saw her lift her chin. “‘Tis you who ought to be begging your God’s forgiveness, sir. Not I.”

The priest glared at her, then turned to me. “And you?”

“I have done nothing wrong,” I said loudly. “My soul is far less stained than the soul of one who would hang an innocent and claim to do it in the name of God.’’ Then I looked down at the crowd below us. “And far less stained than the souls of those who would turn out to watch murder being done!”

The crowd of spectators went silent, and I saw Duncan stop in his tracks there on the ground below us. He turned slowly, looking up and straight into my eyes. “Nay,” he said, his voice firm. “‘Tis wrong, an’ I willna allow it!” Then suddenly he lunged forward, toward the steps again. But the guard at the bottom caught him in burly arms and flung him to the ground. A crowd closed around him as he tried to get up, and he was blocked from my view. I prayed they would not harm him.

“Be damned, then,” the old priest said, and he turned away.

The hangman came to place a hood over my mother’s head, but she flinched away from it. “Look upon my face as you kill me, if you have the courage.”

Snarling, the man tossed the hood to the floor and never offered one to me. He took his spot by the lever that would end our lives. And I looked below again to see Duncan there, Struggling while three large men held him fast. I had no idea what he thought he could do to prevent our deaths, but it was obvious he’d tried. Was still trying.

“‘Tis wrong! Dinna do this thing, Nathanial!” he shouted over and over, but his words fell on deaf ears.

I turned to meet her loving eyes. And then the floor fell away from beneath my feet, and I plunged through it. I heard Duncan’s anguished cry. Then the rope reached its end, and there was a sudden painful snap in my neck that made my head explode and my vision turn red. And then no more. Only darkness.

Receiving unwanted attention after foiling an armed robbery, the unhuman Inspector Hobbes takes a long-overdue camping holiday, with Andy, his accident-prone friend, and Dregs, the delinquent dog. In the bleak and dangerous Blacker Mountains, Andy stumbles across something shocking, before falling for an attractive widow, while Hobbes wonders why an old gold mine has reopened. On their return to the sleepy Cotswold town of Sorenchester, Hobbes is dumbfounded when Kathy, a reminder of his hippy days, turns up on the doorstep with her baggage. Since Hobbes has to solve a gold robbery and contemplate some perfectly ordinary rocks, Andy must entertain Kathy while trying to protect his new love from a monstrous opponent working for the sinister Sir Gerald Payne. Despite his usual blunderings and an inability to throw straight, Andy displays genuine courage.

Can Andy survive dinner with a vampire? Can Hobbes recover the gold? And what is Kathy’s relationship to Hobbes?

This, the third in Wilkie Martin’s unhuman series of fast-paced comedy crime fantasies will reveal all.

‘I always knew you’d get ahead one day’

This new ‘unhuman’ comedy fantasy book series is suitable for teenagers and upwards.

Read these new humorous mysteries and you’ll never look at The Cotswolds in the same way again. This is the third novel in the series featuring the same memorable characters, but it is not necessary to have read the first, as all the books are stand-alone novels and can be read individually.

* * * * *

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A romance multi-author box set and romantic suspense collections and anthologies of action and adventure, contemporary romance, military romance, romantic thriller, and sexy romance.

11 by Kylie Brant, National Bestselling Author: Five years after escaping from The Collector Mia Deleon stops hiding and teams up with security expert Jude Bishop to track her former captor. Jude’s efforts to help Mia are complicated by the growing attraction between them. Because their race to trail the sexual sadist brings Mia ever closer to the man determined to see his collection finally complete….

DANGEROUS CURVES by Nina Bruhns, New York Times Bestselling Author: A spec ops transporter for STORM Corps takes on drones, bad guys, and car chases on the coast of Italy—and falls for a beautiful scientist whose curves are far more dangerous than the road!

IN TOO DEEP by Opal Carew, New York Times Bestselling Author: Angel has been deep undercover in the mob for far too long. Four years ago, she was forced to betray the only man she ever loved. He barely got away with his life, and now he hates her. Too bad they’ve been partnered to work together. As man and wife.

SEAL’S EMBRACE by Elle James, New York Times Bestselling Author: Injured Navy SEAL and the critical care nurse he’s attempting to woo join forces to stop a terrorist attack at a military hospital in Germany.

BRIDGER’S LAST STAND by Linda Winstead Jones, New York Times Bestselling Author: When a one night stand makes Frannie a witness to murder and puts her in danger, Detective Malcolm Bridger refuses to let her out of his sight until the murderer is caught.

FLASH FIRE by Elle Kennedy, USA Today Bestselling Author: Navy SEAL Cash McCoy knows all about danger, but when it comes to the love of his life, this alpha soldier does everything in his power to keep Jen Scott happy and safe. When the tables are turned and Jen places herself in harm’s way for her job, Cash must learn to trust the woman he loves…or lose her forever.

INTO DANGER by Gennita Low, New York Times Bestselling Author: Navy SEAL, Steve McMillan, has been pulled from his team to work with CIA’s Task Force Two, where he’s assigned to deal with the “world’s most glamorous assassin.” Marlena Maxwell proves to be as seductive and dangerous as her reputation as the assignment becomes a game of cross and double-cross. Into Danger is the winner of RT Book Reviews’ Best Romantic Intrigue.

EMBATTLED HEARTS by J.M. Madden, New York Times Bestselling Author: For the first time in years former Marine John Palmer has met a woman that makes him feel like the man he used to be, before his catastrophic injury. When a stalker threatens her, it’s his job to remove the threat. Why does the possibility of having his heart destroyed scare him more than taking on a killer?

DEATHTRAP by Dana Marton, New York Times Bestselling Author: The only woman he could ever love, has a secret he could never forgive.

SHADOW OF THE HAWK by Julie Miller, USA Today Bestselling Author: A Marine whose soul is tortured by his mystical abilities puts his life—and heart—on the line to rescue a Plain Jane school teacher and her students from an archaeological field trip gone horribly wrong.

IMPOSTER by Karen Fenech, USA Today Bestselling Author: Chemist Dr. Eve Collins, wrongly accused by the CIA of developing a chemical weapon, learns someone has set her up as a scapegoat. That “someone” wants her dead. To save her life, she must join forces with CIA Operative John Burke—the man who doesn’t believe her claim of innocence and the man she’s falling in love with.

STRONGER THAN SIN by Caridad Piñeiro, New York Times Bestselling Author: To save his family’s life, he must risk losing the woman with whom he is falling in love.

Lilah was left on the front steps of the monastery in Gus. Who is she? What is she? Why can she perform the miracle of healing? After her skill is revealed, and she is branded a child of Satan, Lilah is forced to leave her close friend, Arianne, and the only home she has ever known.

At fifteen, she begins a new life outside the walls of the monastery to learn that people are not always what they appear. When first love is replaced by tragedy – at the hands of a vicious landowner – Gabriel, a mysterious, enchanting observer, comes to Lilah’s aid.

Taken to a castle, deep in the Hungarian forests, she will discover secrets from her past -– which someone wanted buried – and her fate will entwine with the darkest of legends.

(Supernatural themes)

5-Star Amazon Review

“This is a fabulous story and well written. I thought the characters were great. The story was filled with mystery, magic, gothic romance and of course, for the lovers of the paranormal, the usual lust for blood. Another intriguing story from this author that I couldn’t put down. Pass it on!”

A story of love and brutality, and a world, which although this is a science fiction fantasy, resonates with you as it delivers the very real message of what human beings are doing to the world in which we live. This book, with its wonderful characters, who are both beautiful and cruel will take you on a emotional roller coaster.
An original story, that has been beautifully told. I highly recommend it.

• Winner of Book Junkie's Choice Awards 2013 for Best New Series Fiction • Winner of Book Junkie's Choice Awards 2013 for Best SciFi• Winner of Awesome Trilogy/Series of The Year 2013

Warning*** This series honestly reflects the brutality of our world. If you are a sensitive reader, this is NOT for you.*** Contains violence.***

Alien Species Intervention #6609, is an alien apocalyptic saga spanning 200 years from the Prohibition to the distant future. It encompasses tender love between divergent species, political downfalls and acts of unspeakable violence. When you think you've figured it out... WHAM! You won't see it coming. Thriller, horror, science fiction and fantasy all in one, the series is a gripping psychological exploration of how the inherent greed and evil of man is dooming planet Earth and its inhabitants.

In Baby, the prequel to the Species Intervention #6609, Netty is a naïve teenage farm girl given in marriage to an older brutal opportunist disguised as a prominent citizen during the Prohibition years in Sussex County, New Jersey. After years of enslavement, Netty flees into the night from her rapist husband, traveling back to her parents' farm, where she rescues an enigmatic and damaged creature named "Baby" with whom she falls in love.

Netty and Baby find happiness and fulfillment until a handsome Italian stranger, Wil, comes into Netty's life, creating a tense love triangle made more fraught by Netty's struggle to hide the bizarre and wondrous changes to her body caused by loving Baby. Baby's miraculous healing powers on the nature around them can't be ignored either. The heart-rending and astonishingly brutal climax to their story comes as all three face challenges that ultimately lead to transcendence and the discovery of a new world that promises resurrection.

Echo

2033. One hundred years have passed since the birth of Baby's miraculous offspring, Echo. The United States has evolved to a point of politically driven economic collapse.

An abused mother escapes with her two sickly children, Scotty and Abby, from the tenements of Short Hills to the farmland of Sussex County. There she unites with a Latino family who has provided a loving home to Jose, a young Costa Rican boy who has been traumatized by murder and kidnap.

The two families find themselves the subject of the psychotic attention of Armoni, a soul damaged beyond redemption, as their lives become entwined with Echo's, who is intent on thwarting the efforts of the heinous people who prey on the lives of other creatures. And as the insidious miscreant, Armoni, tracks them down, bringing brutality and violence to all, Netty recruits a heartbroken Abby to mount a mission to rescue the wildlife of Earth before despicable events bring on the specter of Armageddon.

In Armageddon Cometh, the third book in the Alien Species Intervention #6609, Abby plans to abduct the wildlife at the Big Cat Sanctuary under Netty's guidance by enlisting the help of the charming Italian yacht captain, Cobby, even though this leads to the exposure of hidden changes to her body. Despite her love for Jose, she draws closer to the charming Cobby when Jose departs on his own mission to find his adopted family.

At Bird Key, young Scotty embarks on a romance with the troubled rich girl, Chloe. As strange connections and revealed identities collide with political intrigue and murder, a traumatized Chloe and Jose scramble in a frantic dash to escape, wildlife and all, to Tampa Bay. Joining them are Kenya, a sassy and striking pregnant black girl, and Peter, their trusted attorney, who has been left scarred and emotionally ruined by their nemesis, Armoni. In the climax and chaos of the escape ahead of cops and devastation from the sky, it soon becomes clear that Scotty might be the mysterious "One" as foretold in an omen.

I'm a big fan of science fiction, especially when it involves the subject of aliens. What I loved about this trilogy was the author's ability to infuse some controversial elements into her story. She created some lovable and imaginative alien creatures like Baby. The human characters were also very real---their plight for survival is both endearing and heart-breaking.
This trilogy is just the beginning of the Species Intervention series so be prepared for more books. Overall, J.K. Accinni crafts creative and engaging stories. Based on this trilogy, I'm excited to read the next book.

Amelia Wallace

About the Author

J.K. Accinni was born and raised in Sussex County before moving to Randolph, New Jersey, where she lives with her husband, five dogs and eight rabbits, all rescued. Mrs. Accinni's passion for wildlife conservation has led her all over the world, including three trips to Africa, where ten years ago she and her husband fell in love with a baby elephant named Wendi, that had been rescued by a wildlife group. That baby is the inspiration for the character Tobi, the elephant featured in her fourth book titled Hive.
The character of Caesar is inspired by a real life iconic tiger from Big Cat Habitat and Gulf Coast Sanctuary in Sarasota.

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After catching her fiancé Jack in bed with her sister the day before her wedding, New York socialite Lily Baron escapes to Rio, her honeymoon destination—alone. There, Marcelo, the dark and sexy hotel masseur, releases a heated passion Lily had never experienced with Jack. When Lily meets handsome and powerful Brazillionaire Gustavo de Lima, she can hardly resist him. There’s just one problem. He’s married.

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My name is Logan Steele. I’m devilishly handsome, seriously ripped, well hung, charismatic and highly sexed. Women just can’t resist me. So when I lost my job in the construction industry and was struggling for cash, I decided to put my assets to good use.

Nestled below the skyline of Detroit you’ll find Greektown, a few short blocks of colorful bliss, warm people and Greek food. In spite of growing up immersed in the safety of her family and their rich culture, Jill Zannos doesn’t fit in. A Detroit homicide detective, she manages to keep one foot planted firmly in the traditions started by her grandparents, while the other navigates.

300 years ago, Raven St. James was hanged for witchcraft. But she revives among the dead to find herself alive. She is an Immortal High Witch, one of the light. A note from her mother warns that there are others, those of the Dark, who preserve their own lives by taking the hearts of those like her.

If your words, thoughts, and actions are always negative, its time to make a change. Stop the fiery darts of the enemy. Self-talk is a part of life- positive or negative. When we’re upset we’re rarely thinking positive and our self talk turns negative and critical. God wants us to use positive thinking and positive thoughts to cast down negative thoughts.Because they prevent us from living the blessed and successful life He has planned for us.

* * *

The starvation that followed the locust invasion nearly decimated the human population. Now five years later, America’s citizens are faced with a choice. Send their children to safety camps designed to rebuild the human race or fight back.

* * *

For two years, Sidney Miller ran from life, working one menial job after another to keep herself so busy she would never have to think or feel—or remember the tragedies she’s faced. Her careful plans are abruptly changed when she meets Gavin at the temporary job she’s taken to keep herself busy through the holidays.

Dad gave me my late mother’s engagement ring, platinum and diamonds galore. Shannon wouldn’t care if I slid a giant hard-candy ring on her finger instead of a three-carat diamond designed to impress.

But my future mother-in-law, Marie, will pass out when she sets eyes on that rock, and that will give us two minutes of blessed silence. That woman talks more than Kim Kardashian flashes her naked backside on the internet.

I was going to make it perfect, from the color of the tablecloth to the freshness of the roses.

And it was perfect.

Until Shannon swallowed the ring.

* * *

Shopping for a Billionaire’s Fiancée gives near-billionaire Declan McCormick the chance to tell his story in this continuation of the New York Times and USA Today bestselling Shopping for a Billionaire series.

5-star Amazon reviews:

“This book is so many things. It’s smart, sexy, funny and, at times, truly touching. The sweet, happy ending was magnificent – it made me laugh and cry (in a good way)…”

“Ms. Kent once again strikes gold. The book manages to be funny, touching, and irreverent. All I can say is…BRING ON THE WEDDING!!”

Nestled below the skyline of Detroit you’ll find Greektown, a few short blocks of colorful bliss, warm people and Greek food. In spite of growing up immersed in the safety of her family and their rich culture, Jill Zannos doesn’t fit in. A Detroit homicide detective, she manages to keep one foot planted firmly in the traditions started by her grandparents, while the other navigates the most devastated neighborhoods in the city she can’t help but love. She is a no nonsense workaholic with no girlfriends, an odd boyfriend who refuses to grow up, and an uncanny intuition, inherited from her mystic grandmother that acts as her secret weapon to crime solving success. Her story winds around tales of her family and their secret laden history, while she investigates the most despicable murder of her career.The Greeks of Beaubien Street is a modern tale of a family grounded in old world, sometimes archaic, tradition as they seek acceptance in American society. They could be any nationality, but they are Greek.

Kirkus Review:

“A murder investigation unfolds inside Detroit’s tightknit Greek community…..
After a series of well-deployed plot twists, Jill [Zannos] zeroes in on the culprit. Jenkins complicates and expands the domestic and detecting halves of the plot with a deft, sure touch, and her portrayal of Gretchen Parker’s final day is unflinchingly stark. Jenkins also expertly captures the exotic sights, sounds, and smells (oregano, mint, garlic, feta, olive oil, tomato, etc.) of the neighborhood.
An effective, memorable police-procedural whodunit.”

Receiving unwanted attention after foiling an armed robbery, the unhuman Inspector Hobbes takes a long-overdue camping holiday, with Andy, his accident-prone friend, and Dregs, the delinquent dog. In the bleak and dangerous Blacker Mountains, Andy stumbles across something shocking, before falling for an attractive widow, while Hobbes wonders why an old gold mine has reopened. On their return to the sleepy Cotswold town of Sorenchester, Hobbes is dumbfounded when Kathy, a reminder of his hippy days, turns up on the doorstep with her baggage. Since Hobbes has to solve a gold robbery and contemplate some perfectly ordinary rocks, Andy must entertain Kathy while trying to protect his new love from a monstrous opponent working for the sinister Sir Gerald Payne. Despite his usual blunderings and an inability to throw straight, Andy displays genuine courage.

Can Andy survive dinner with a vampire? Can Hobbes recover the gold? And what is Kathy’s relationship to Hobbes?

This, the third in Wilkie Martin’s unhuman series of fast-paced comedy crime fantasies will reveal all.

‘I always knew you’d get ahead one day’

This new ‘unhuman’ comedy fantasy book series is suitable for teenagers and upwards.

Read these new humorous mysteries and you’ll never look at The Cotswolds in the same way again. This is the third novel in the series featuring the same memorable characters, but it is not necessary to have read the first, as all the books are stand-alone novels and can be read individually.

* * * * *

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One qualified winner will be selected and announced the day after the end of the weekly sweepstakes. To win the sweepstakes, you must be a subscriber to BOTH the BookGorilla and Kindle Nation Daily email lists.